


A (Not So) Simple Salt n' Burn

by TheDiamondSword400



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Dean Winchester is a Potty Mouth, Explicit Language, Ghosts, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Latin, Murder, Original Character Death(s), Original Female Characters - Freeform, Rituals, Sigils
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 12:57:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18778753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDiamondSword400/pseuds/TheDiamondSword400
Summary: The Winchester Brothers head to a Illinois town on a job that turns out to be far more complicated then they expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place at some point after season 4 and before season 7.

Flint's was the most popular hotspot in Sietta Springs. The music was pounding, bright lights flashing and the drinks flowing.  
All Oriana wanted to do was take ibuprofen, and curl up in bed with a good book. She shot an uncomfortable look towards the dance floor where her cousin, Jen, was dancing wildly with a guy whose tie had migrated from his neck to encircle his head at some point.  
Brittney and Adriana, two of her cousin's friends, dropped into the chairs across from her with a big grins and a cups in their hands “You having fun yet?!” Brittney demanded loudly over the music.  
Oriana bit her lip as she adjusted her glasses on her nose. She shot an uncomfortable look towards the dance floor and shook her head.  
“Oh, come on, you big crybaby!” Brittney mocked, reaching across the table to smack her on the arm “Go dance! Live a little!”  
“Maybe later!” Oriana responded, having to shout over the music and unable to stop the rush of annoyance she felt at having to do so. She couldn't understand why the music had to be so loud. It was giving her a headache. She looked away, pretending not to notice the look Brittney shot her before heading back to the dance floor.  
Oriana blinked in surprise as Adriana suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her out of her seat. she stumbled along after her uncertainly and after a moment realized they were heading to the bathrooms.  
When the two at last reached the bathroom, she couldn't help a sigh of relief. The music, while still loud, wasn't quite as blaring.  
“Okay, talk to me.”Adriana urged as she turned to face her, expression fierce “You've been in a miserable slump since we've got here.”  
Oriana sighed and shifted uncomfortably “I'm sorry, really I am. I appreciate how you guys have tried to include me, I really do. It means a lot. But this,” she waved a hand helplessly at their surroundings “It's just not me. I mean, lets face it: I'm a nerd. I love dressing up like obscure fictional characters and going to the used book store. I hate the taste of alcohol and I'm a socially awkward mess. Plus I doubt there's anyone here whose over a five while I've never been less then a size ten. I'm sorry it's not working out.”  
Adriana huffed and shook her head in exasperation, then shot her a look “Well, I'd be mad but a drunk blind man could see it.” she smiled apologetically “Heck, it was stupid of us to expect differently. Besides, how many times have you saved our butts with your hangover cures?”  
Oriana flashed her an awkward smile “Thanks.” she murmured “At least, you've brought a designated driver this time, huh?”  
Adriana burst out laughing and rolled her eyes “My hero!” she reached out to give the taller girl's shoulder a reassuring squeeze “Don't worry about it, alright? I haven't had anything yet, so I'll make sure we get home safely.”  
“You'd do that? I thought you were looking forward to 'being wild' tonight?”  
Adriana snorted and patted her shoulder “It's fine, honey pie. Just go home and hug your cat.”  
Oriana rolled her eyes in annoyance at the nickname but couldn't help smiling gratefully “Thanks.”  
Adriana shot her a quick smile and led the way back out of the bathroom. When they got back to the table, Brittney had returned. Jen had joined her and was sitting with her dancing partner nursing a few drinks.  
The three looked up at they approached.  
“Hey, four-eyes having trouble holding her drinks?” Brittney greeted them with a wolfish grin.  
Freezing, Oriana stiffened in shock and stared wide-eyed at the blonde.  
“What?!” Adriana demanded over the music, frowning sharply.  
Jen waved a hand vaguely in the direction of her blonde companion “She asked if my fatso cousin barfed her guts outs!” she clarified, the guy next to her grinning widely into his drink.  
Adriana stared at her friends in shock and disgust. And shoved their drinks into their laps. The two leaped to their feet with shrieks of rage. But she ignored them.  
“Come on-” she started, turning back to Oriana. She broke off when she found the other girl gone. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of long black hair disappearing back towards the bathrooms.  
“Crap.” She muttered, wincing, and hurried after her.  
She entered the bathroom and looked down, looking for the black and red wedges the other girl had been wearing though the gaps in the stalls. No sight of them. She looked up and glanced around the bathroom with a frown.  
Nothing.  
Double crap.  
She wasn't in here.  
Adriana sighed and leaned against the wall, wondering what she was going to do. Could this night get any worse?  
She felt something drip onto her head and flinched, hand flying up to probe the sudden wet spot in her hair. Great, first that poor kid gets her self esteem destroyed and now I get drenched in toilet water?  
Another drop hit her shoulder and her hand shoot up the wipe it away as she pulled back from the wall.  
And froze, blinking in confusion as she stared at her hand. Sewage wasn't supposed to be red . . .  
Another drop hit her shoulder. She stared at the red liquid dripping off her shoulder blankly for a moment. Then slowly looked up.  
And screamed.  
Oriana stared down at her with wide eyes, mouth open in a silent parody of Adriana's terrified screams. Her arms were flung wide on either side as if to brace herself.  
She was pinned to the ceiling with her neck bent at an unnatural angle, her throat cut and her chest sliced open.


	2. Chapter 2

Somewhere in Indiana, two weeks later.

Merle's Diner had outside tables and that particular comfortable quality that came from a small town stable your grandparents went to when they were kids.  
For Sam and Dean it was the signs declaring 'Jack's Famous Burger' and 'free wi-fi' that were the deciding factor in choosing it as their latest pit-stop.  
Sam glanced over the top of his laptop as the waitress, a middle aged women with a bright smile and a name-tag identifying her as Betsy, set their food on the table “Let me know if you boys need anything else?” she chirped  
Dean shot her a quick smile “Thanks.” he said and and grabbed his burger, taking a quick bite. Then froze, staring at his food with wide eyes “Dude, this is awesome.” he exclaimed.  
With his mouth full.  
Sometimes it was hard to believe Dean was the oldest.  
Sam rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his computer “So I may have found a case.” he admitted “Oriana Black, age twenty-two, she was a student at the local collage. She was found dead in the bathroom at Flint's, a popular nightclub in Sietta Springs, Illinois. She was discovered by a friend she was with, an Adriana Mallory. Her neck was broken, throat slit and chest sliced open.”  
“Well, there are worst places to die.” Dean chewed thoughtfully on his burger for a moment “What makes you think this is our thing?”  
“She was on the ceiling.”  
Dean froze, food halfway to his mouth, and stared at him “The ceiling?”  
“Yup. The cops have no idea how she got up there. Apparently she was stuck up there for a few hours before they could get her down.” Sam couldn't help wincing slightly. Despite some of the grisly stuff he'd seen hunting the supernatural over the years the pictures he had found had been . . . disturbing.  
“Illinois, huh?” Dean frowned down at his less then half eaten burger “Guess I'm getting this to go.” he sighed and flagged down the waitress.

1504 South Clover Street was an older house, with large trees and shrubs in the front yard. And an old stained glass window over the covered porch depicting a cross with a scroll beneath it.  
A blonde girl in a pink tank top and jeans sat on the porch with a cellphone pressed to her ear and a smile on her face as they walked up “Aw, Steve, I told you. He's just jealous.” She glanced at them as they stepped up beside her, Dean pulled out his badge and held it up “Yeah, baby, I know. Uh, hold on.” she lowered the phone, raising her eyebrows curiously “Whatever it is, I didn't do anything.”  
“I'm Agent Hartnell.” Dean introduced himself and gestured to Sam “This is Agent Troughton. We have some questions about the murder of Oriana Black.”  
Blue eyes rolled in annoyance “Figures. They're inside.” she said, waving a hand towards the door and raised the phone back to her ear “Sorry about that, baby.”  
Dean shot Sam a disbelieving look. The two strode pass the girl still chatting on the phone and entered the house.  
Another girl with shot black hair looked up in surprise from where she was lounging on the couch, a realty show blaring on the TV in front of her “Who the hell are you?” she demanded, straightening.  
Dean repeated what he said outside and the girl sighed “Feds? I don't understand. Why would Feds care about Oriana?”  
“Well, you've got to admit, the circumstances of her death were not exactly ordinary.” Sam pointed out, returning his badge to his pocket.  
“It was suicide. Pretty awful, I'll admit. But not exactly rare.” she protested “As for all that weird stuff, Adriana had just found a dead body. She was hysterical.”  
“Is Adriana here?” Sam asked.  
“Upstairs.” she said, waving them off and turned back to her show.  
Dean shot his brother a look as they left the room and headed up the stairs “You get the feeling the dearly departed might of not been so dear?” he muttered, shooting an annoyed look back toward the living room.  
“Certainly seems that way.” Sam agreed in a low voice. So far nobody seemed all that broken up.  
On the second story they saw a young women with long brown hair packing up one of the rooms, music playing at a low volume coming from a nearby computer.  
She looked up as Dean knocked on the door to reveal teary brown eyes.  
“Adriana Mallory?” Dean asked  
“Yes? Who are you?” she asked, voice sounding defeated.  
After Dean had repeated himself for the third time, she glanced between them uncertainly “I don't understand why you're here. I already told the cops everything.”  
Sam fixed her with a reassuring look “We just want to double check our facts. Could you tell us what happened that night?”  
Adriana sighed “I don't see why not. It's not like it's burned into my brain or anything.” she added sarcastically.  
Sam flashed her a sympathetic look “You went to Flint's that night, right?”  
“Yeah.” Adriana sighed again and grabbed a plush toy off the bed, stroking it nervously “You got to understand, Oriana was sweet. Always helping out, always paid her rent on time. But she was a nerd. The type that would rather read books then party. We were trying to change that. Make her normal, ya know. But it wasn't working. Taking her to Flint's was our last desperate effort to turn her into into one of us.” she smiled sadly “I always ignored her before. But I realized I actually liked the over grown geek. She had a hangover cure that was a miracle worker.” her face fell “But not everyone took the time to notice.”  
“About what happened at Flint's?” Dean urged  
Adriana gave a small nod “She was really uncomfortable with the whole thing. We talked things out in the bathroom and things were good. Then we ran into Jen and Britt back at our table.” she scowled angrily “They were drunk. Mean drunk. They called her the most awful names. I mean, Brit I could understand. She's a brat. But Jen? How could she say such things about her own cousin?” she gave her head a helpless shake “Oriana ran back to the bathroom. I followed her and I found her like that. On the ceiling. Bloody.” she shuddered, pressing a hand over her mouth as tears filled her eyes “Who could have done that?!” she sobbed, hugging the plush tight to her chest.  
Sam reached out and gave her hand a reassuring pat, giving her a moment to regain her composure.  
“I'm sure that must have been terrible, Miss Mallory.” Sam started, his voice gentle “But I have to ask, when you found her did you see anything weird?”  
“Weirder then my roommate dead on the ceiling?” she demanded, incredulous.  
“Ya know, Weird. Like somebody with black eyes or a strange smell.” Dean clarified, sounding just a little too eager.  
Sam shot him a look as Adriana scowled “No. No, there was no one else in there. As for smells, it was a club bathroom. They always smell weird.”  
Sam nodded slowly as if in agreement as he weighed what they had been told. They really hadn't gotten any new information. “Thank you for your time.” he said, reaching into his pocket to pull out a business card and handed it to her “If you think of anything else, please let us know.”  
Adriana gave a small nod and turned back to her packing.  
“And don't leave town.” Dean added, making his way to the door.  
“What?” she glanced at the boxes surrounding her in confusion then shook her head in realization “Oh, no! These aren't mine. Their Oriana's.”  
Dean froze in the doorway and shot her a curious look “Why are you cleaning out your dead roommate's stuff?” he asked  
“Her mother asked for her things to be sent back.”  
“Shouldn't her cousin be doing that?” Dean demanded, a slight frown pulling at his mouth.  
The girl shrugged a little awkwardly “Well, being in here makes her uncomfortable. It's the guilt, you know.”  
Dean's eyebrows jumped up his forehead, interest piqued and traded a look with Sam “And why would she feel guilty?”  
Adriana shot him a hard look “How would you feel if your cousin died minutes after you called her fatso?”


	3. Chapter 3

A large neon sign with the word Flint's loomed over the lines of bright yellow police type covering the entrance. It was a modern building that stuck out like a sore thumb in the historic downtown of Sietta Springs. Sam eyed the steel and metal construct critically as he climbed out of the Impala and walked up the the entrance trailing behind his brother. Something caught his eye as he reached sidewalk. The brick store front next door sported the intricate architecture of centuries past with a peculiar window display.  
“Dean.” he said pointing.  
Dean turned and followed his gesture “What the hell?” he muttered, staring wide eyed at the bowls and pendents sporting the familiar designs of anti-possession charms and devil traps as well as some hoodoo symbols “What the heck kinda town is this?” he demanded, brow furrowed in disbelief. Spinning on his heel away from the shop and stalked towards the club.  
A burly man in a black shirt and jeans with a bored expression sitting behind the police tape looked up at their approach “We're closed.” he grunted, deep voice sounding as bored as he looked.  
“Yeah, I noticed.” Dean snarked and reached into his pocket to pull out his badge “I'm Agent Hartnell. This is my partner, Agent Troughton. FBI. We're looking into the Black murder.”  
The large man frowned, gray eyes steely “Well, you lot ain't gonna learn anything.” he huffed  
“Garry, that's no way to talk.” a middle aged man in a suit stepped out of the club with a smile plastered on his face. “I'm Flint Garrow, the owner of this establishment.” he introduced himself “How may I help you?”  
“We're investigating the murder that took place here a few weeks ago.” Sam explained, showing him his badge before slipping it back in his pocket.  
Mr Garrow pursed his lips, a flicker of annoyance flashing across his face before disappearing “I see. I suppose you'll like to see where it happened?”  
Dean quirked his brow and smiled thinly “That's why we're here.” he pointed out  
“Of course.” Mr Garrow flashed them a thin smile “If you'll follow me?”  
They followed the man inside, passed a long black bar and to the dance floor surrounded by black tables and chairs. He paused and waved his hand at the far wall, where two shiny black door with silver handles and the familiar gendered signage was visible “It happened right in the ladies room.” he told them. He frowned and shot Dean a questioning look “You wouldn't happen to know when I could reopen, would you?” he asked with a hint of impatience.  
Dean stared at him for a long moment in silence, expression carefully neutral “When the investigation is over.” he said at last, voice coldly professional.  
Mr Garrow huffed in annoyance “Typical.” He muttered “Well, I'm sure you agents can show yourselves out when you're done, I have some work to get to.” with that he spun on his heel and strode away.  
Dean cursed softly under his breath and stalked towards the ladies room, slamming the door open with Sam close behind him “Is it just me or does nobody seem particularly broken up over this Black girl kicking the bucket?” he demanded hotly  
“I know what you mean.” Sam murmured, pulling the EMF reader out of his pocket as he glanced up at the ceiling, wincing at the sight of the large reddish brown stain above his head.  
“I mean, I get that she was supposed to be some kind of typical nerd. But even her cousin seemed more concerned with Kim K then this girl getting freaking murdered!” Dean growled, throwing up his hands in frustration.  
Sam nodded in agreement as he shot his brother a look. The fact that Dean was standing in a woman's restroom and wasn't gloating about standing on 'forbidden ground' showed how upset he really was. As irreverent as Dean could sometimes be in these situations, deep down he really did care about the people slaughtered by the supernatural monster of the week. It was one of the things he admired about his big brother.  
Dean's irritable muttering broke off when the EMF started screaming the instant Sam turned it on “You got anything?” he asked, watching his younger brother slowly move the meter around.  
Sam frowned thoughtfully, the meter quieting when ever he moved it in the direction of the stalls. He slowly moved across the room, waving it from side to side “There's some pretty strong energy in here.” he muttered and glanced back up at the ceiling.  
“We already know she wasn't offed by some drunk.” Dean muttered, pulling out his own meter with a frown “Well, one things for certain: Whatever spook's responsible won't gank itself. Let's find this thing.”


	4. Chapter 4

The paint was peeling off the image of the sleeping figure on the sign of the Sleep 'n Snooze Motel just outside Sietta Springs. The sign declaring 'UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT' was faded from being beaten down by at least a decade of storms and direct sunlight. The wi-fi was free, rooms relatively clean and the rates were surprisingly low.  
All in all, it was basically heaven as far as Dean was concerned when they pulled into the parking lot that evening. Especially after the day they had.  
Dean fell onto his bed with a moan, rubbing a hand over his face. Nothing. After hours of searching the damned club not even a hint of what might be haunting it. It was so blasted annoying not even a burger and beer did much to improve his mood.  
“Hey, Dean? Come cheek this out.” Sam called from where he sat at the table, laptop open in front of him.  
Dean sighed and stood up, making his way over to stand behind his brother “I was looking to find out if there had been any other strange deaths at Flint's.” Sam explained  
“And have there been?” Dean asked, crossing his arms over his chest.  
“Just some drug addict who overdosed in the alley a couple years ago. But then I found this.” he gestured to the screen of his computer “Apparently Flint's was built on the lot of a butchers that burnt down back in the seventies. Six months before Harold Smathings, an employee, was found nearly decapitated in the freezer.”  
“Nearly decapitated?” Dean interrupted, raising an eyebrow curiously.  
“Apparently it was still attached by a bit of skin.” Sam explained, tapping the side of his neck in illustration.  
“Gross.” was the deadpan response “Anything else?”  
“Well, before that in the thirties it was a shoe store and the owner's wife, Adelia Curtis, was found under a shelving unit. Her right eye was impaled by the heel of her shoe. A few months later it also burned down.”  
Dean frowned thoughtfully as he weighed Sam's discovery with what they already knew.  
Which really wasn't that much.  
“You think its some sort of killing cycle?” he asked, not exactly relishing the thought. Those kinda things were always messy.  
Sam made a helpless gesture with his hands “Maybe. Its a theory. The records for this town don't go back much further then the nineteen-twenties.”  
Dean shot him a weird look “Why the heck is that? I thought this town was founded in the eighteen hundreds or something?”  
Sam shrugged, wincing slightly “Yeah, but the records building burned down in nineteen-twenty-two.”  
Dean stared at him in disbelief “Don't tell me. It used to stand on the same lot as Flint's?” At Sam's reluctant nod, he rubbed his hands down his face and growled in frustration “If this blasted thing is a ghost, how are we supposed to stop the bloody thing if we can't figure out who it was?!” He exclaimed, throwing up his arms.  
“We'll figure something out.” Sam said, a note of determination in his voice.  
Dean shot him a look, expression hard “You do realize that if you're right, that club is going to burn down in a few months?”  
Sam sighed and rubbed a hand over his mouth, glancing back at his computer “Yeah.” he muttered  
“What do think the odds are that Garrow will have it back up and running by then?” he demanded.  
Sam shot him a look that mirrored the tension in his gut and he cursed.


	5. Chapter 5

“I can't believe that idiot walked up to me on my date with Steve.” Brittney complained into the phone “I mean, he's only my second wheel. He should know better then to butt in when I'm with my first.”

“Hay, I'm not arguing.” Rachel, her friend who lived on the other side of town, reassured her over the phone “I get it. Still think it a weird analogy though.” she chuckled.

“Hey, it's a lifestyle choice.” Britt smirked “But it only works if all the wheels go in the same direction.”

_'I'm a car. Their the wheels. If they want to keep my motor running they have to fall in line.'_ She thought, smirking as she repeated the line to herself. Honestly, it was quite possibly the best choice she had ever made. Coming up with that motto. Plus, any excuse to have four hot boyfriends was a justifiable one in her opinion.

“So what's the verdict on Harry? You going to keep him?” Rachel asked

“Nah.” Britt grabbed a red tank top out of her closet and held it in front of her as she looked in the mirror “I'm going to dump his selfish ass on our date tonight.”

“On your anniversary? Girl, you savage!” Rachel laughed

“I know.” Brit tossed the tank top aside and grabbed a skimpy black dress from her closet “So, I got to make sure I look extra sexy tonight. Let him know what he's going to be missing out on.”

“Well, te – det – ls t – rrow - - k -?”

“What?” Britt frowned “Rach, you're cutting out? Hello?” She stared at her phone as it died, shocked by the betrayal “What the hell? I just charged this piece of junk an hour ago.” she exclaimed, and tossed it on the bed in frustration when her efforts to revive it proved hopeless “Figures.” she muttered and turned her attention back to the mirror, holding the black dress up to herself, considering “Perfect.” she decided, and quickly shed her t-shirt and jeans.

**Tha-duck.**

She froze and glanced towards the closed door of her bed room in concern. Striding over, she quickly turned the lock. If someone was breaking in they could rob someone else, she decided. She'd just climb out the window when she was ready to leave. After stripping down completely she grabbed a pair of black lace panties out of a drawer. She tugged them on then pulled on her black dress. Taking a moment to admire herself in the mirror, she smirked “He won't know what hit him.”

_Skiiiiirrrrttt!_

Frowning, she looked around in confusion. What was that sound?

_Click!_

Her head snapped around at the sound and her eyes wide. Hesitantly she made over to the window, staring in shock. The old antique lock had turned. The lock no one had been able to turn since she moved in here. Reaching out, she grabbed the metal tab and pulled. And pulled again.

It didn't budge.

Ok. burglars or not, she was getting out of here.

Britt ran across the room and unlocked her door. Or at least tried to.

“What the hell?!” she exclaimed, now thoroughly freaked out. She scrambled frantically at the lock but it wouldn't turn.

She yelped as something smacked her in the back of the head and spun around. Her eyes widened in shock and she ducked as her hair iron flew across the room from her vanity, embedding itself in the door where her head had been. She cried out, diving into the far corner and throwing her hands over her head as her toiletries launched themselves at her from across the room. She screamed and sobbed helplessly at the unrelenting assault.

That suddenly stopped.

Nervous and bruised, Britt hesitantly lowered her arms and looked around the room. Lipsticks and other toiletries were embedded in the walls around her. Others lay on the floor where they had fallen after they struck her. Whimpering, she ran her fingers through her hair, freaking out but unbelievably grateful it finally seemed to be over.

Drip. Drip, drip.

She stared in confusion at the wet droplets decorating her shoulder.

Two more dropped down.

They were bright red. And coming from above her.

Hesitantly she looked up.

And screamed.


	6. Chapter 6

The coroner's at Sietta Springs was not much different from all the others they had visited over the years.

The coroner himself was a slender middle aged man with thinning brown hair and a weak chin who sighed as he gestured to the covered body he had just pulled out “Well, there she is.” his thin lips pulled down into a frown “I tell you, whoever did this was a real psycho.”

“Never assume anything.” Dean countered, infusing his voice with a touch of arrogance as he eyed the sheet covered body.

The coroner blinked at him blankly for a moment then shrugged “Well, that's your job. I'm heading to lunch. Let Bob know if you need anything. He'll be right outside.” with that the man left, leaving them alone with the corpse.

Dean shot Sam a look from across the body, raising his eyebrows at his younger brother “So how does this effect your cursed lot theory?”

Sam gave a frustrated shake of his head, hair falling into his face “Let's just see what we've got here.” he sighed and reached out to pulled back the sheet.

“Ugh.” Dean groaned, grimacing at the sight. To think this was that hot blonde they saw on the phone just yesterday. “Where's her face?” he asked

“In the tub behind you.” Sam told him, leaning over the body to prod carefully at the exposed bone and tissue.

“So how many boyfriends did she have again?” Dean asked, lifting the lid of the indicated container.

“Four.” Sam responded in a distracted tone.

Dean frowned in disgust at the exposed flesh at the bottom of the tub “Any chance one of them did this?”

“Not unless one of them is secretly an extremely angry spirit.”

Dean looked up to see Sam holding up one of the tools with a bit of dark goop coating the end “Is that _ectoplasm?!_ ” he demanded, incredulous.

“Certainly looks like it.” Sam admitted, expression considering.

Dean cursed loudly and gestured angrily to their surroundings “What the hell is going on here?!” he exclaimed

“I have no idea.” Sam confessed as he rolled the tool thoughtfully between his fingers.

 

 

Back at the motel, Dean lay in bed angrily glaring at the television as he rapidly flipped channels.

Sam sat at the other end of the room rapidly typing on his laptop and talking on the phone “Yeah, thanks, Bobby. We owe you one. Bye.” He set the phone on the table after hanging up and ran a hand down his face, letting out a sigh “So apparently there is a spell that can supercharge spirits and they can be tied to an object, like a building.”

“But?”

“The mark used only works if its unbroken.” Sam explained, brow furrowed in thought “There could be a part of the original structure that was included when it was rebuilt. But there is no way of knowing what part. Also it doesn't explain what's been killing these people and causing the fires. It also doesn't explain how Oriana's ghost got strong enough in just a few weeks to emit ectoplasm.”

“Or how she got clear across town to kill her brat of a former roommate.” Dean pointed out.

“If it was even her.”

Dean sighed and tossed the remote onto the nightstand “Well, this stinks.” he huffed “What the hell are we supposed to do now?”

Sam sighed and shook his head tiredly “We can try to find the blueprints for the club. See if there were any pre-existing structures used in its construction. Or we could just ask Garrow, but I doubt he'd tell us anything.”

Dean stared at him in disbelief for a moment then covered his face with his hands, cursing softly “I'm really starting to hate this case.” he muttered


	7. Chapter 7

Jen sat in front of the TV, dark eyes riveted on the screen and hugging a pillow loosely in her lap.

Adriana poked her head into the room, wearing her work clothes “Hey, I'm heading out. Anything you need?”

“Nah.” Jen shook her head, eyes not leaving the screen.

Adriana hesitated, shooting her friend a worried look “You sure?”

Jen glanced over at her and flashed a small smile “I'm sure. Now get.” she urged, making a shooing motion.

Adriana laughed softly “I'm going, I'm going. Call me if you need anything.”

A few seconds later the sound of the door closing echoed through the house and she was left alone. Her mind flicked briefly to the two other women who would usually be upstairs. Britt would usually be getting ready to meet up with one of her 'wheels' and Ori would be fast asleep or absorbed in one of her books. Now it was quiet except for the sounds of the TV. And they were dead.

Jen gave her head a firm shake to get rid of the depressing thoughts and tried to refocus her attention on her show. After a few minutes without success, she gave up. Sighing, she turned it off and rubbed at her eyes.

Suddenly feeling antsy, she rose to her feet and made her way to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she paused as she caught sight of the diet root beer at the back.

Oriana's favorite.

Her cousin always hated it when they took one without asking.

“Well, the dead don't need to drink.” she muttered and grabbed one. As she twisted it open the lights flickered. Frowning, she glanced up as the lights continued to flicker on and off.

Then suddenly stopped.

“Huh.” she muttered and shrugged “Weird.”

She took a sip of the soda and turned to head upstairs.

And froze in shock.

“Ori?” she breathed, staring at the figure in front of her.

Jen cried out as she was suddenly sent flying through the air, crashing through the kitchen window. She landed on the lawn with a grunt, dazed, her right leg screaming in pain.

She yelped as hands suddenly grabbed her by the hair, jerking her up and tossing her into the road. She screamed in pain as a wave of agony shot through her from her leg.

_'I think I broke it'._ She thought distantly.

And suddenly her cousin was in front of her, grabbing her by the throat.

“Ori?” she wheezed in desperate protest, clawing at the hands around her neck.

But there was nothing there.

Oriana's blank, ashen face flickered as she tightened her grip.

Jen's vision faded, her own desperate gasping sounding so vary far away.

The last thing she heard before everything went black was the sound of squealing tires.

 

 

Sam leaped out of the car, firing the shotgun and hitting the ghost dead center.

The ghost dissipated into the air as he hurried forward and knelt down beside the young women laying spread-eagle on the road.

He pressed his fingers to her neck and slumped in relief as he felt her pulse “She's alive.”

Dean came up behind him with another shotgun held at the ready “Right, get her in the back.” He ordered, scanning their surroundings for any sign of the ghost.

Sam scooped her up in his arms, being careful not to jostle her clearly broken leg, as Dean hurried back to the car to open the rear driver's side door. “She needs a hospital.” Sam said, quickly sliding and strapping her in.

A muscle in Dean's jaw ticked “I hate hospitals.” he muttered. But didn't argue as he climbed back into the driver's seat.

Sam joined him in the front, barely getting the door closed before they were peeling away from the curb.

“Well, one good thing we got out of this crummy night.” Dean said, breaking the tense silence that had settled over them “Now we know that it's definitely that Oriana chick killing people. We drop off her punching bag, go salt and burn her bones and we'll be out of here by morning.”

“Except Oriana Black was cremated.”

Dean shot his brother an incredulous look “Please tell me your joking?”

Sam spread his hands helplessly “It was the first thing I checked after that other girl was attacked.” he confessed tiredly.

“Damn it, Sam!” Dean raged, steering wheel creaking as he tightened his grip “What are we supposed to do now?!”

“Exactly what we were planing on doing before.” Sam told him, displaying the same tension curling in his brother's gut “We go to the club and break the sigil supercharging the spirits.”

“And what the hell are we supposed to do with her while we're vandalizing the club?” Dean demanded, nodding his head towards the back of the car to indicate their passenger. A groan issued from the back seat and he quirked an eyebrow “Speak of the devil.” he muttered.

Sam shot him a look before twisting around in his seat to give the now conscious young woman a reassuring look “Hey, it's Jen right? Just take it easy, we should be at the hospital soon.”

“What?” she asked blearily and tried to straighten in her seat. She cried out as pain shot through her leg “Gah, my leg! What happened? Who are you people?”

Sam hesitated a moment, considering weather he shoulder answer the last question and decided against it “We found you collapsed in the road.” he told her “How much do you remember?”

She took a shuddering breath and ran a hand through her hair, wincing as a twinge of pain shot through her chest “Ori.” she breathed “My cousin. She did this. Ori tried to kill me. Why would she do that? I thought she was dead?!” she threw up her hands, a note of hysteria entering her voice.

“Well, she is.” Dean huffed.

“WHAT?!”

The brothers traded an uncomfortable look “Look.” Dean started, voice firm “We've got a whole speech for this sort of thing but I'm going to give you the short version. Ghosts are real. Your cousin's one. And she's trying to kill you.”

Jen stared at him, mouth hanging open in shock and shook her head, looking away.

And screamed at the sight of the figure that had appeared beside her.

“What the hell?!” Dean exclaimed as Sam cursed loudly, jerking back.

Jen screamed again as hands shot out to grab her by the hair and slammed her head into the window repeatedly, cracks spreading across the glass from the blows.

The ghost suddenly dissipated and Jen moaned in pain as she reached up to cradle her now bleeding head. She blinking blearily over the seat at Sam who was still gripping the carton of salt he had just thrown in her face.

“Did you just grab that out of the glove box?” Dean demanded breathlessly as he shot a look at the salt container, steering wheel in a white knuckled grip.

Sam nodded breathlessly, still staring into the back seat “I put it there. For emergencies.”

“Well, this certainly qualified.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart “How did that thing even get in here?!” he demanded, thinking of the little improvements he had placed under the seats the last time he had rebuilt the Impala. That were supposed to stop this very thing from happening.

“I don't know.” Sam replied and cast a quick look over the wide eyed young women in the back seat. She wasn't wearing any jewelry, only a gray t-shirt and jeans that fit her perfectly. She didn't even have socks on. Nothing that could have belonged to her cousin. He shot his older brother a nervous look “Dean, I don't think she is going to be any safer at the hospital. We need to finish this now.”

Dean scowled. And the only way to do that was to destroy the sigil. Which was somewhere in the walls of Flint's. He cursed. “I hate it when you're right.” he growled “But we can't exactly take her with us. She'll be a sitting duck.” he pointed out. “And it will take both of us to find the sigil.”

Sam frowned thoughtfully for a moment then his eyes lit up “Take us back to the motel.” He ordered.

“But Flint's is this way!” Dean protested, gesturing to the road.

“If we can get here back to the motel, we can get her patched up and in a salt circle. She'll be safe while we destroy the sigil.” Sam explained

“Seriously? That's your plan?” Dean demanded, shooting him an incredulous look “That's a terrible plan!”

“Have you got a better one?” Sam countered.

Dean sighed, scowling in frustration “No.” he growled and spun the car around.

“You two aren't really FBI, are you?”

Sam traded an exhausted look with his brother and glanced back at their shaky passenger “No.” he confessed “We're hunters.”

“Like ghosthunters?” Jen shook her head and winced as the pain the motion caused “That's crazy!”

Sam opened his mouth to reply when Dean suddenly cursed and slammed on the breaks. Jen cried out as she was slammed into the front seat. Sam letting out a yelp as he threw out his hands, bracing himself against the dashboard as he was unbalanced, having twisted around at his brother's expletive. He caught a glimpse at what had caused Dean's outburst through the windshield and it made his blood run cold.

The ghost was back.

The Impala fishtailed and came to a screeching stop into the middle of the road. Dean had barely a moment to give thanks to the lack of traffic on small town roads before a incredible force slammed into the side of the car. Jen screamed and threw up her arms over her head as the cracked glass of the rear driver's side door's window exploded inward.

Dean's outraged protest to the assault on his car was cut off as he was slammed headfirst into the wheel, the horn blaring from the impact as Sam slammed into the dash in a mirrored motion. Sam threw up his hands to try to protect his head as he was slammed again into the dash, hyper-aware of Dean's pained grunt as his head made contact again and again, horn honking in time with the impacts and the force ramming into the side of the car.

The back door was suddenly torn off and tossed aside, flying several feet down the road. Jen screamed again as she was dragged from the car, the ghost of her blood soaked cousin flickering rapidly.

The ghost threw her to the pavement. Laying on her back on the hard ground, Jen sobbed in terror as she tried to drag herself away, hindered by the broken leg stretched out in front of her. Oriana's ghost, blood dripping from her slit throat and sliced chest and head resting at an unnatural angle on her shoulder, watched her cousin's desperate efforts at escape with a blank expression.

Then the ghost did something strange.

Reaching down, the spirit removed its shoes.

Jen froze, confused by the unexpected move, and found her eyes drawn to the shoes the ghost now held in its hands. They were Adriana's, she remembered distantly. Her friend had lent Oriana the plain black heals the night they went to the club.

She stared blankly at the footwear as the ghost raised one of the shoes up in a move not unlike an executioner raising his ax.

**BANG!**

Jen jumped and her head swung towards the car in shock as the ghost disappeared, the sound of the gunshot echoing up and down the road.

Dean, looking like the villain in a slasher film with blood running down his pale face like a waterfall, slumped back against his beloved car as he lowered the rifle back to his side. Green eyes shot her a frantic look, assessing. She stared back at him, gratitude a heavy weight in her gut as she met his gaze.

Relief swamping his face and tension leaving his body, he slid down the side of the car and passed out.

Jen covered her face with her hands and let out a sob, as much from the shock as relief.

It was over.

Thank god it was over.

One of the two guys most likely had a phone she could use to call an ambulance to get her leg and her two rescuers heads taken care of. If nobody drove by and beat her to it.

She allowed herself a moment to calm her gasping breaths and racing heart, before dropping her hands.

Jen didn't have a chance to scream before the shoe struck her in the face.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean came awake with the smell of antiseptic in his nose and a shooting pain in his head. He cursed under his breath as he realized he was in a hospital.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, boy.”

Startled, green eyes snapped open and to the right to stare at the older man sitting beside him “Bobby?” He blinked rapidly as he tried to clear his mind “What are you doing here? Where's Sam?”

“I'm your emergency contact, remember?” Bobby shot him a look of fond exasperation from beneath his ever present trucker's cap “I'm here cause you idjits got the snot beaten out of ya. Plus I was in the area.” he drawled “As for that brother of yours he's in pretty much the same shape as you are.” the older man frowned sharply at him, eyes narrowing “What exactly were you boys hunting again?”

Dean shot a quick look at the door before answering, the fog over his mind slowly lifting “Hell if I know.” he confessed, throwing up his hands in frustration. He frowned as something nagged at him, thinking back. They had been heading to Flint's then Sam had convinced him to swing by - “What happened to the girl? Jen?” He demanded, the image of the young women being choked by the ghost flashing through his mind “She okay?”

Bobby sighed heavily and Dean stared at him with wide eyes, heart dropping into his gut “She didn't make it. Hell of a way to go, too. Got the heel of a shoe rammed through her eye, of all things.” he frowned as he caught the look slowly spreading across the younger hunter's face. "What's wrong?"

Dean didn't reply right away, wheels turning rapidly in his brain. It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? Death by shoe wasn't exactly a normal way to go, right? “Adelia.” he muttered

“What?” Bobby demanded in confusion.

“Adelia Curtis.” Dean clarified in a distracted tone, mind still whirling “She died from taking a shoe to the noggin.”

“Just like your vic.”

“And the shop where it happened was built on the same lot as Flint's.” Dean added, eyes narrowing in thought then gave his head a quick shake. There was a reason he let Sam to most of the research. His little brother's brain was good at tying up all these loose ends “Could it still be a sigil causing all this?”

“Maybe. It's not impossible.” Bobby crossed his arms thoughtfully as he mulled over the problem “Damnedest thing I've ever heard of.” He muttered after a bit “I'll have to do some research when I take that car of yours back to the yard.”

Dean winced at the reminder of what the ghost did to his baby “When are you heading back?”

“As soon as you boys get back on your feet.”

Despite the guilt and pain, he smiled slightly at the parental affection in the older man's voice and nodded in acknowledgment.

 

 

Later that day, after Sam and Dean had signed out of the hospital, they drove towards Flint's in one of Bobby's old clunkers that he had loaned them before he left. Sam sat in the passenger's seat tuning out his brother's quiet grumblings with his laptop balanced on his legs, the two having stopped by the motel to grab some of their stuff. Sam frowned at the screen thoughtfully “Well, according to this there are at least five rituals that involve supercharged spirits and a repeating sequence of murders that match what we're dealing with. Three of which involve fires.”

Dean huffed in frustration at that and scowled out the windshield “Bobby get back to us yet?”

“He wouldn't have even reached South Dakota yet.” Sam pointed out in amusement, though his expression was not without sympathy. When people were getting knocked off by the supernatural pesky things like physics were pretty low on Dean's list of priorities. It was actually rather sweet in Sam's opinion. Hilarious, but sweet.

“So how do we stop this thing exactly?” Dean demanded “Will breaking the sigil work on these things?”

“Yeah, but we'd need different things depending on what it is.” Sam told him and frowned thoughtfully at the screen.

“Like?”

“Well, everything from a pickax to burning white sage dipped in a mixture of lamb's blood and angel hair.”

_'Say what?'_ Dean shot him an incredulous look “Did you just say angel hair?”

Sam shrugged “Technically, its 'a strand from the head of the vessel of a divine son' but yeah. At least that's my guess.”

Dean blinked, thoroughly weirded out “So what you're saying is that apart from giving Cas a haircut we've got everything we need to take care of this thing?”

“Pretty much.” Sam shot him a look “If we can find it.”

“There's always something.” Dean muttered under his breath and pressed down on the gas.

 

 

They waited until it was dark to approach the club, Sam carrying the duffle bag filled with their supplies. Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise as the front door opened easily, not even locked, and shot Sam a curious look before entering.

“So, where do we look first?” he asked as they passed the abandoned bar.

“Well, Oriana died in the bathroom. Let's check there.” Sam suggested as he ran his eyes over the interior of the club, frowning slightly “Don't you think its weird that this place wasn't locked up?” He asked suddenly.

Dean frowned at that and glanced over their surroundings “Maybe.” He shot his brother a look “You want to take a look around while I find this ghost sign?”

“Sure.” Sam said in a distracted tone, eyes intently studying the far wall.

Dean rolled his eyes “Guess I'll go vandalize the ladies room then.” he shrugged.

Sam gave a nod and moved off.

“Yo, Sammy!”

The younger brother started in surprise and spun around. Dean reached out a hand and made a grabbing motion “Bag.”

Flushing in embarrassment, Sam slid the strap off his shoulder and handed it over.

The two separated, Dean making his way towards the bathrooms as Sam drifted in the opposite direction towards a door with a sign that read 'Employees Only'.

The door opened into a corridor with two doors on each side and one at the very end marked 'Exit'. The light was slightly dim from the old florescent lights overhead which clearly should have been replaced awhile back. Peaking in the door immediately to his right revealed the kitchen with had another door on the far side with a small window through which he could see the main part of the club. The door beside it was a bathroom. Then a supply closet full of cleaning supplies. The last, which had a tiny sign no bigger then his hand declaring it to be the office, was locked. Sam raised an eyebrow at this and shrugged, pulling out his lock pick. It was almost laughably easy get it open.

But what he saw inside made him freeze.

A computer lay on the floor in pieces among scattered papers, broken knick-knacks and shredded porn magazines. Flint Garrow sat at his desk, arms spread the length of the top with his head face down between them. Barely kept from rolling off by the thin scrap of skin still attaching it to the rest of his body, a meat cleaver embedded in the desktop beside his right ear.

Just like Harold Smathings.

“Crap.” Sam breathed, horror clutching at his guts like a vise and bolted from the room, running back the way he came. He had to find Dean.

They had to end this now.

 

 

While Sam went to search the rooms, Dean entered the ladies room. Dropping the duffle bag on the counter beside the sinks, he shot a glance around the room.

“Right,” he said, grabbing a hammer from inside the bag and striding over to the far wall “Let's get to it.” a little while later he stepped back and ran his hand through his hair, cursing. He had been quite pleased with himself a minute ago when he had pulled back a chunk of drywall to expose a carved line in the brick underneath. He should have know it was too easy. Now, staring at the extant of what he had to deal with he regretted his earlier flippancy “What am I supposed to do with this thing?” he muttered, scratching at his scalp in frustration. Because the damned thing was huge.

Dean turned as Sam hurried into the room and stumbled to a halt beside him “Well, I found it. Now what?” He demanded of his younger brother.

“Dean, Garrow's dead.”

Dean blinked at his breathless little brother, expression going flat “He's what?”

“He's dead, Dean.” Sam repeated, eyes intense “I found him in his office. His head was nearly chopped completely off. With a meat cleaver.”

“Nearly? You mean, like that butcher guy from the seventies?”

“Exactly like that.”

Dean straightened, smothering the slight feeling of panic at the back of his mind “Well, then how do we break this thing?” he demanded, gesturing to the sigil. Sam's eyes followed the gesture and he froze, swallowing.

“Sam.” Dean snapped, spreading his arms in a 'come on' gesture “Talk to me, man.” his face paled at his brother's continued silence “Don't tell me its the creepy angel hair one.”

“It's not.” Sam finally responded, eyes not leaving the image carved into the wall and he swallowed again “I don't know this one.”

“What did you say?!”

“This wasn't one of the sigils I turned up in my research, Dean.” Sam snapped, frantic and frustrated “i don't know how to break it.”

Dean cursed again and turned away, mind racing. He glanced back at his brother and raised his eyebrows as Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket “What are you doing?”

“Sending a picture to Bobby.” Sam explained, distractedly, eyes on his phone.

Dean gave a slow nod “Smart.” he relented “But what are we supposed to do while we're waiting for him to call?”

Sam shrugged “See if anything we've got works on it?” he suggested with a nod towards the duffle bag and took a step towards the counter just as the lights flickered.

Sam leaped towards the counter and threw open the bag “Dean!” he called and tossed his brother a shotgun, drawing another out to hold it against his chest as his eyes moved around the room.   
Sam cried out as he was sent flying into the brick wall, shoulders striking the middle of the sigil before tumbling to the ground.

“Sam!” Dean cried out, spinning towards him. He caught a flicker out of the corner of his eye and spun back around, raising his gun.

And was thrown across the room. He was slammed back first into the door-frame with a grunt. He caught himself before he could smash his nose on the floor. Palms stinging, he looked up.

Oriana's ghost stood in the middle of the restroom in the blood soaked remains of the dress she died in, ashen face utterly devoid of emotion beneath the flickering lights. And lifted her hand.

Sam, who had been reaching for his dropped shotgun, grunted as his back was slammed into the brick wall. Jaw clenched and legs kicking against the floor, Sam let out a gasping wheeze.

She was choking him!

Dean lunged for his gun which lay where he had dropped it.

The ghost spun towards him as he wrapped his fingers around the weapon.

He lifted it as she raised her hands.

And fired.

The ghost dissipated as the shot rang out. The flickering lights steadied and shone bright. Reaching up to press a hand to his neck, Sam slumped forward in relief.

“Sammy?!” Dean hurried to his brother's side and knelt beside him. He placed a comforting hand between Sam's shoulder blades as the younger man gasped for breath, keeping the other wrapped around his gun “Come on.” He urged, wincing slightly at the bruising that was already visible between Sam's hair and collar.

Dean glanced around the room uneasily. The crazy ghost girl wasn't back yet. But who knew how long that would last.

His phone rang in his pocket and he lifted his hand from his brother's back to grab it “Hello?” he snapped, pressing it to his ear.

“You idjits are going to force into an early grave, ya know that right?”

Dean felt a little of the tension ease from his chest at the sound of the older hunter's voice “Bobby.” He sighed and Sam shot him a hopeful look and gestured for Dean to put it on speaker “What have you got?”

“I recognized that picture you sent me. It's a _factorem deamonium_.”

Dean blinked and shot his brother a confused look “It's a what now?”

“It's a _demon maker_ , ya idjit! Learn your Latin!” Bobby railed at him in annoyance “I read about 'em back when we were looking for the seals before the whole apocalypse mess started. They entrap souls and corrupt 'em without the need of going to Hell.”

_“You mean this freakin' things is a seal?!_ ” Dean exclaimed, earning a startled look from Sam who had moved to grab his rifle from where it had fallen.

“No.” This time the 'You idjit' was only implied “It would need to include a little something called a _clavis est ad inferos_ which it doesn't.”

“Okay.” Dean mulled that over for a moment “So how to we stop it?”

“Purify it. Angel blade, holy water, anything with divine purity will purge that sucker.”

“Dean!” Sam suddenly cried out and Dean's head snapped up. He barely caught a glimpse of Oriana's blank features before he was sent flying across the room. He slammed head first into the door and his vision grayed and swam.

“Dean!” Sam's voice cried out from behind him, sounding like it was coming from underwater. Then cried out in pain.

With a supreme effert Dean forced himself to his knees and twisted around. And felt his heart freeze in his chest.

Sam's back had been once again pressed to the wall and was slowly, inch by dragging inch, being dragged up the wall.

The image of Oriana Black's gruesome death flashed through his mind and the leaden weight of realization settled in his gut. The deaths. The deaths that were being repeated. Their was only one left. She was going to kill Sam in the same way she had been killed.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” he screamed and shot her in the chest.

Instead of disappearing, Oriana jerked and dropped Sam as she stumbled from the blast.

Dean stared as the figure slowly turned to face him and his mouth fell open in shock.

A faint black mist was leaking from the open wound in her chest.

Before he could fully compute the what he was seeing Dean was sent flying into the stalls, crashing into them with enough force to shatter the wood. He barely had a second to be disgusted by the proximity of the toilet before she was there, hands grabbing him by the neck. Dean let out a startled wheeze and clawed at the vise constricting his throat. But he couldn't feel the hands squeezing the life out of him. It was like there was nothing there. He stared up at her in terror. The face leaning over him was a expressionless gray mask, demon blackness slowly eating away at the corners of large brown eyes.

“Hey!” a voice cracked weekly from behind them. The corrupted ghost twisted around. Its grip suddenly loosened but remained locked around his throat.

Dean didn't perticularly care, greedily sucking in air as he glanced around the corrupted ghost. In time to see Sam, who was kneeling a short distance away, light a necklace on fire.

The hands suddenly released him as the bloodless gray flesh and demon blackness peeled back to reveal the pale features underneath. A relieved smile flashed across rounded features before they faded in a burst of light.

Dean glanced from where the ghost had been standing to the smoldering embers beside his brother “What the hell?” He wheezed

“I found Oriana's locket embeded in the wall.” Sam explained, voice rough like a chain smoker's “I had brought some holy oil when we came in. So I purified it.”

Dean blinked at him “Does that mean you purified her spirit too?”

Sam shrugged, tired “Certainly looked like it.”

Dean glanced towards the wall in consideration, brow furrowing in thought “Think holy oil would work on the sigil?”

His little brother flashed him a tired smile “We can certainly give it a try.” he said. Grabbing the jug of holy oil from beside him and pushing himself unsteadily back to his feet, Sam stumbled over to the wall and began to pour.

Dean looked away and his glance roved across the floor in search of his phone. He needed to call Bobby back and let him know they were still kicking. A flicker of movement made his head snap up.

“SAM!”

Sam barely had time to spin around at his shout before the ghost threw the younger man into the sinks. It turned and Dean stared in shock at the gory mess where its left eye should have been.

_'Well, that's pretty obvious in hindsight.'_ he thought to himself and shot Adelia Curtis in the chest.

“Sam.” He made his way over and helped his brother back to his feet “Get that thing lit up pronto. We got company.”

Sam nodded and set to work as Dean surveyed the room, watching his back with his sawed-off at the ready. He shot the other a quick look as the younger pulled a box of matches out of his pocket. He turned back around.

And yelped as he came face to face with a bloody skull.

He fired reflexively and the ghost disappeared.

Dean spun back around at a sudden crash to find that Sam had been knocked flat, another ghost standing over him.

hiss head clinging precariously to the rest of hiss body by a piece of skin, Harold Smathings spun towards him. Head rolling pitifully against his chest and arms raised in silent threat.

Dean cursed and fired again.

“You ok there, Sammy?” He asked, eyes raking the room for a sign of the other ghosts.

“Fine.” the younger man glanced at the scattered and crushed matches littering the floor as he pushed himself back to his feet “Lighter.” he requested, holding out a hand.

Dean reached into his pocket and grabbed his zippo, tossing it to his brother

The lights flickered and then the ghosts were back, leaking toxic darkness.

All three of them were lined up against the far wall.

Faceless guy in a suit vest.

Adelia Curtis with her missing eye.

Harold Smathings with his barely attached head.

And Dean Winchester almost out of ammo.

He cursed under his breath and raised his gun. Sometimes he really hated his luck.

The click of the lighter from behind him was like a divine choir to his ears.

The ghosts screamed in rage and lunged forward as one.

And Sam lit the sigil on fire.

Dean stumbled slightly at the rush of heat at his back. The ghosts halted their advance and howled as they were set aflame, flailing about in a fruitless effort to escape as they were banished to the afterlife at last.

Dean blinked the spots from his swimming vision as the last of the spectral flames guttered out. He glanced over his shoulder at his brother who had pressed himself into the doorway of the sole remaining stall after lighting the oil. The younger man's face looking a little pink under the florescent lights and the tiny flames still highlighting the carved brick.

The two shared dazed looks of relief and Dean let out a shuttering breath “Come on. Let's get out of here.” he urged and strode out of the bathroom, his younger brother gathering up their supplies and grabbing their bag before following.

Dean paused briefly to pull the fire alarm before striding out the doors and making his way across the street towards the clunker. He felt a brief pain in his chest at being separated from his beloved car. But personally he'd rather get bloodstains all over the seats of Bobby's loaned clunker then the Impala.

He shot a quick look at Sam as the taller man opened the back door to toss in the duffle, taking in the bruises littering every inch of exposed skin “Well, aren't we a petty sight.” he muttered, opening the driver's door and sliding into the seat behind the wheel.

Sam rolled his eyes as he shut the door and climbed into the passenger seat.

Dean started the car and peeled away from the curb as the sound of fire trucks slowly rose in the distance. Next stop, Sioux Falls. To repair his baby and lick their wounds before finding their next hunt.

He turned on the radio and let himself relax to the classic rock that issued from the speakers.

Their family business might have lousy hours and even worse pay. But he wouldn't change it for anything.


End file.
